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Mommy Diaries Nov. 03

October 26, 2002To my daughter Gracie on her first birthday,It was about a year ago that I woke up early on a Saturday morning, wondering if it was time; the anticipation coming for months.Was it really happening?I waited before I woke Daddy, writing down my contractions on a blue sticky note as I lay on the couch. I was excited and nervous and nauseous all at the same time.I finally called Grammy in Florida. There was only one flight for her to catch to Denver and she had less than two hours to pack and to get to the airport about an hour away. And I still wasn’t sure if this was it.I remember waking up Daddy and telling him what was happening and he promptly fell back asleep. “What’s going on?” he said the second time I woke him. But soon, he was the one telling me to get a move on, suddenly concerned you’d be born on the side of the road. Little did we know…

I took a bath and then cleaned your nursery. I called out the contractions to Daddy while he was in the shower so he could keep track.

You were 11 days early so I was a little surprised and still thought it might not be it. I’d spent the night before at a cocktail party telling everyone who asked that your due date was November 5th but I was certain you’d be born in October. “So, tomorrow is good for me,” I kept saying. Ha ha, wasn’t I clever. You must have been listening.We got into the car that sunny autumn Saturday with our packed bags. False labor, we thought, too early, must be false labor. I did my own versions of breathing while we drove down Park Avenue West to St. Josephs.

Daddy dropped me off at the front and then went to park the car. I tried to sit comfortably as they typed in my name and realized I was having a hard time talking during the contractions. I quickly agreed to a wheelchair ride to the third floor. Was this it?

Daddy left the bags in the car thinking we’d be heading home later that day.When my water broke at the hospital just after check in, we finally knew. “You’re not going anywhere,” nurse Jennifer said. I was just relieved I’d gotten it right. This was it!

Daddy was at my side each time a contraction came and held my hands and counted with me. Our friends and family came in, rushing about to get there so they wouldn’t miss anything. Little did they know we’d have an all day ordeal.

Some day I’ll tell you how happy I was when I got the epidural. Daddy was so happy when we discovered cable telelvision in the birthing room on a college football Saturday. We watched a lot of games while we passed the time, marking my dialations and progress with halftimes and new games.

Being in sports writing, your Grandpoppy always has the game on, so I found the football quite comforting and familiar. Incidentally, Notre Dame beat Florida State that day. Daddy wore his Notre Dame shirt in the delivery room.

It would be 12 or so hours after our check-in to the hospital before I started pushing. Seems you had decided to be face up for the affair. That just meant a little more pushing.

Grammy made it and Uncle Brenden finished his shift waiting tables and three friends were there. They all stayed while I pushed you out. It was a party when you came into the world.

I got downright unruly at one point when they started prepping forceps. I told them I could push harder and longer. Daddy later said he’d never seen me go to that whole different level. I guess it was sheer adrenayline and determination but I wanted you to be born.

At 11:35 p.m., you made your way out. “It’s a girl,” said nurse Melanie. I had waited nine months to hear those words. I’d been calling you a little boy. So much for my motherly intuition. The umbilical cord was around your neck and you were a little blue but soon we heard your faint cry.

When they held you up to show you to me, I’d never felt such pride.

Oh, the tears in the room when you were born. Your birth was a moving experience for everyone there. Tears streamed sideways down my checks as I watched them clean you up and waited to hold you.

They swaddled you and laid you in my arms and our hearts melted. What a miraculous gift. Nobody could have ever told me that I would have felt that way when I first looked at you.

You looked so sleepy and so content and as puffy as I did. I touched your tiny fingers and marveled that this miracle could happen so often as it does in this world.You see, a mother was born in that instant that you were and my whole life changed.I can’t even begin to find a word to descibe the power of that day and of that moment. There aren’t any divine enough or rare enough that would even come close. I do know that each and every year we celebrate your birthday it will also be a celebration for me of the amazing experience I had when you came into this world.

I will always look back on that day as one of the best days of my life.Oh Gracie girl, the things you’ve been through in 12 short months. From holding up your head to standing on your legs, rolling over, sitting up, solid foods, baby babble, first airplane ride, first shots, first steps, first words. It’s been the most amazing journey and I’ve been lucky enough to watch it all. I got the free ticket on this ride.

Your babyhood is over, you’ve emerged a strong-willed and fiercely independent toddler who laughs out loud at herself and loves the family dog. Your father and I, of course, think your exceptionally bright, each taking credit for the genetic superiority. We still watch you with marvel and awe as we did in those first days home from the hospital when we simply stared at you in a swaddled blanket as you lay in our arms.

So Happy Birthday, baby girl. My world is a better place because you are in it.